


Wake, Dear Sleeper

by Moonlight_Hyperfixations



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Buried Avatar Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Canon Asexual Character, Character Death, Desolation Avatar Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Dreams, Heavily altered worldbuilding, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lonely Avatar Martin Blackwood, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Mystery, No beta we die like archival assistants, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Threats of Violence, Vast Avatar Sasha James, Violence, its all of them - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:00:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27601066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlight_Hyperfixations/pseuds/Moonlight_Hyperfixations
Summary: Jon is Buried during the Unknowing, but he was not the first to change.(Aka a longform Buried!Jon story where everyone is still bad at feelings, but this time they're all avatars and they contemplate morality and life together. Also Vast!Sasha because I can.)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Sasha James/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker
Comments: 7
Kudos: 85





	1. I do not wish to wake

**Author's Note:**

> The world is lacking longform Buried!jon content, so here we go! This is mainly just me, rambling about the buried and messing with character dynamics. Have fun reading my chaos!

Perhaps the earth was soft. Perhaps it was sharp. That did not matter to Jonathan Sims. All that mattered was the earth being there. His whole life, he lacked love. The embraces (So loose, not tight enough) were too short, people too distant. It was a bit (Not much, the stones sang) his own fault, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Now he was loved, so (so so so so so so so so so so sosososososososososososo) so loved. Caught up and smothered in the deep, warm embrace of earth that thrummed with (everything he needed)  _ lovebelongingcarerestlonging _ . It soaked into his bones, melted into his mind and Jon could finally sleep. (Sleep like he needed, sleep and rest and be loved)

He did not dream other people’s nightmares. He did not dream of statements. He dreamt of never ending  _ earthstonewatersmokesnowplants  _ (And it was beautiful). He dreamt of a world with no sky(wonderful). He dreamt of rain that lasted forever, of endless white flakes that buried towns(And he slept amongst the  _ clawingdiggingreaching _ who did not understand). He dreamt of the ocean, of sinking into it forever and letting his lungs fill with saltwater(sweetly, softly with  _ lovecarebelonging _ ). Vines grew through his veins and bloomed on his lips( _ beautiofullovelysoftwonderful _ flowers). He drifted through too tight passages and dense ash clouds and learned to notbreath. (He did not need air, he did not belong to it)

Jon wondered what it meant. He remembered  _ needingwantinghaving _ to  _ knowseeKnowSee _ , but now that was a distant dream(He did not care for the dream, it  _ hurtsadnesspainloss _ ). He remembered a lot (Not much that mattered), and he remembered Them. (They mattered, like flowers  _ lovelywonderfulkindsmart _ ) 

He remembered Tim. Tim like ash and tidalwaves,  _ strongkindsmartamazingunpredictable  _ (Tim would miss him if he stayed here, and even all the  _ lovebelongingsoftcarerest  _ could not be as good as falling asleep against Tim’s chest). Tim who teased and sang and smiled. (Tim who had smiled like  _ fireburningmeltsearinglosssorrow _ as he pressed the detonator) Tim who he had felt being pulled from the rubble  _ daysminutestime _ ago, alive and smoldering. (Tim who’s  _ burningblazingsmoking _ hands tore through stone looking for him)

He remembered Sasha. Sasha like space beyond and the sea below,  _ intelligentwonderfulkindlovelyunknowable  _ (Sasha would be worried if he stayed here, and the  _ seawateroceanlakes  _ were nothing compared to her beautiful eyes). Sasha who quipped and grinned and strode. (Sasha who had walked with  _ purposestrengthbeautyetherealgrace  _ away from the thing that tried to take her) Sasha who had nearly flown over the stones to find them. (Sasha who called with a  _ neverendingskyspace  _ voice for him)

He remembered Martin. Martin like haar and seaglass,  _ softkindpatiantlovingwonderfulbrave  _ (Martin would be sad if he stayed here, and the  _ comfortbelongingsofttight  _ was not as welcoming as his warm hugs). Martin who joked and lilted and hummed. (Martin who stayed behind  _ bravestrongwillingcourageous  _ to help them, even alone) Martin who’s footsteps pounded against the roads above as he ran to bring them home. (Martin who’s  _ mistsoftgentlecold  _ tears leaked through the rubble to him)

He had to get up.

They needed him.

(He needed them)

(He loved them)

(He had to know if-

“Jon!”

The embrace was gone, the world was bright. Jon did not open his eyes. It was too  _ brightloudmuch _ . 

“Tim?”

“I found him! I found him!” and there was a new embrace. This one was warm, so warm like  _ candlelightcampfireslovelaughter _ . It felt right, so so right. 

More voices joined, soft and strained. More bodies joined the hug, one  _ gentlewarmsoftcold  _ and one  _ farbrightthinvoid _ . 

(Jon felt  _ homecomfortlove _ )

(This was Home)


	2. What once was will Unbecome

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Casual discussions of violence and murder  
> Implied violence  
> Inhuman characters  
> General moral ambiguity

The hospital was cold, like icy glass. He could see too much, too far ahead. There was no crushing weight. Yet the flowers in his veins sung for him, and the beads Sasha had woven into his hair were a comfort.

“Are you sure you're okay?” right, Martin was here. Martin who’s eyes looked like longing and who drifted on mist. Martin who loved him, them, more than the Lonely. Martin who grasped his hand gently. “Do you need anything?”

“I-” His voice crackled like gravel, ash coming up when he coughed. “I think tea would be nice. You make good tea.”

Martin smiled, a soft and sweet thing. Like honey, Jon thought. When had he gotten so poetic? Sure, the Choke statements tended to wander and describe, but really? At least Martin would be pleased, if he told him.

“Can you… can I see Tim and Sasha soon?” Jon asked. He knew why they weren't here. They had to take care of Magnus. That didn’t make him want to see them any less.

“As soon as they get here, I’ll make sure of it.” Martin replied, planting a soft kiss on the back of Jon’s hand.

“Thank you…” He smiled, as tiny, mist-white flowers bloomed in his hair.

* * *

“Oh Magnus! Where are you?” Sasha sang, floating through the tunnels alongside Tim. The fire in his eyes, and the stars in hers, lit their way. “We have some business to settle!”

“I can smell his fear.” Tim grinned, hands sparking. “He fears destruction.”

“Sure you don’t have hunt in you, babe?” the Voidspinner teased, following nonetheless.

“Pretty sure,” he shrugged, “Any Flame could sense it. I bet his fear of Death smells worse, though. Paranoid bastard.”

Sasha’s laugh was bright and cheery, a contrast to her bloody objective. “So, how do we want to do this? I could send him into my Domain, then you burn him alive in the Void? Or burn him first, and take his eyes to the Void?”

“Maybe we should bring them back to Jon as a present? Could be his first vic. Very thematic.” Tim posited.

“He does love dramatics, as much as he denies it,” She mused, “and irony is one of his favorite forms. Can I at least store him in my Void? Please?”

“Of course, he’ll hate it!”

* * *

Jonah Magnus did not fear anything, or so he said. He had not felt fear for years. Why should he have? He was the mastermind, a quiet, observant force slowly nudging the pieces into place. Now his gameboard was shattered and the pieces ran wild. As much as he wished to deny it, fear coursed through him more than blood. There was a singsong voice down the tunnels, one he had tried to snuff out lest the Infinite make a nest in his halls. Heat blistered through the earth, a rage he had fostered perhaps too well. Now they hunted him, and it brought more fear than any true Hunter.  
He tried to gain back footing, making himself look presentable and sitting primly near his original body. He could turn this tide, surely. All he had to do was use their affection for his Archiv-  
It wasn’t there. His connection to The Archivist. Where had it gone? Jon had survived, he was sure of it! Where was he? Where was that silver-sighted connection, the paranoid mind he had so often peered into? Where had his Archivist gone? No, no it was there, but it felt different. Like a deep, dark well filled with brackish water and old stones. Like…  
Like something Buried Deep Below.  
No.  
No!  
He had spent decades setting everything in motion, finding the perfect pawn! It would not end like this, he would not let it! Jonah took a deep breath, Looked far into that well, and pulled.

Nothing.

Nothing but flowering earth and choking ash greeted him. Miles away, Jon lurched in his hospital bed. He cursed a man soon dead, and Jonah Saw. he saw the new child of stone and sea and trees. He saw how roots entwined his heart and saltwater flowed through his veins. He saw the flowers in his hair and just under his skin. He was the Archivist no longer.

Jonathan Sims had truly Become, and it was not under the Eye’s gaze.

“Hello, Jonah Magnus.” The Voidspinner sang.

“Nice to finally meet the real you, double boss.” The Flame beside her grinned.

Jonah felt very, very afraid.


	3. In sleeping and seeing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Burns  
> Illusions to violence  
> Dream logic

Jon did not know when he had fallen asleep. Perhaps it was the singing of sea and earth in him, perhaps it was Martin’s gentle company. Regardless, he Knew he was sleeping. Knowing was different now. Instead of a piercing, thrumming sting behind his eyes, Jon felt a gentle, blooming wave pass over him. From it, he Knew.

He Knew the Watcher still held sway on him, but it was a softer, cushioned way. Choke held him, like a silent guardian, to batter away it's ever seeing gaze. Yet, there was no ill will. The Eye did not pull for him, it did not feel anything at his loss.

It did not feel at all.

Nor did Deep Below Creation, despite its comfort. There was no intention, no malice or joy. Nothing but Being. They simply Were. Jon Saw them, imperceivable as they were. He Saw infinities of empty hunger, yet no emotion attached. They could never be full, yet did not lament. For they did not think, nor feel. Forces of nature. 

And then he saw the sea, no, a sea. One so deep, so wide it was everything. The sky above blinked down, and stars fell into the water like tears.

_‘Find me…’_

And the sea shifted, curling and spiraling into a smiling frown. “Find me.” It said.

_‘Find me.’_

Flowers bloomed over arching doorways.

_‘Find me.’_

Shadows swam into a void of silvery streams, mist floating about his eyes like tears.

_‘Please… find me.’_

Stones rolled down a scarlet hill. They climbed down bones and flowers, creaking arms of porcelain masks.

_‘I’ve waited so long, find me.’_

Fog billowed from rotting tree stumps, a doorway to worlds beyond.

_‘Little one, please find me.’_

* * *

Jonah could not See. Had he ever seen anything? Was it all a beautiful, long dream from this Void? 

He was Jonah, wasn’t he?

Or… was his name Elias?

No, that was a shield, he thinks. 

His skin ached, he could not tell if it was from the Void’s chill or the blistering burns. But it did not stop the voice at the back of his mind.

_‘You failed. You cannot find me.’_

It was not a true voice, not one that spoke, not one that breathed. It was not the voice of his god. He didn’t care what it thought of him…. But it was all he had here. Here, where he barely had himself.

_‘How dare you, how dare you shunt my gift and make him suffer.’_

Make who suffer? He thinks that a lot of people fit into the category of ‘those he made suffer’. It didn’t matter though, right? He would be able to See soon, and his god would protect him.

_‘How silly of you. There are no gods, you little parasite. No fate, no plans of fear and glory. I am the closest you could hope for. It cannot care for you, it does not think.’_

It? How can a god not think? Why did the Void whisper, yet not feel cold in its voice?

_‘I am no void, pest. I am not a part of this place.’_

Then why? Here to gloat after his grand defeat? Now that you can sneak into his mind again?

_‘Yes, I’ll keep you company until my gift finishes you. You won’t be alone yet, little parasite.’_

Jonah wanted to scream, but his mouth had been burnt shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is the voice, I wonder? Well, I know but I'd love to hear your theories!


	4. With Unease

Martin was worried. Well, he had been worried for hours now, but it was worse. Jon was new to having abilities, and they were clearly acting up in his sleep. The room felt so, so small. Water was leaking from somewhere under the door, but when Martin opened it the hall was clean. Flowers bloomed from the stone-blocked windows, and the ceiling groaned under the weight of something.

It was… odd. The last time Martin had felt this closed in, he was scared and uncomfortable. Now it felt like something safe, something meant to keep him calm. The flowers almost seemed to glow in the dim room, a soft and pale blue. 

It would have worked, too, if he couldn’t Feel another presence in the room. Something, weak as it was, hoovered near Jon like a ghost. Something old, something very, very lonely. He could sense its sorrow, like waves on a long forgotten shore. Deep, ancient longing for something lost centuries ago. Then there was the anger, a petty and vapid thing. It didn’t seem to be directed at either of them, thankfully, but it still had him on edge. 

He had tried to ease whatever it was into the Lonely, but that was only met by amusement from the being. It was strong, and that worried Martin. What did it want with Jon? Why was it here? Why did it feel so familiar?

So he waited with the strange being, each posed on one side of Jon’s bed. Occasionally, the presence would disappear, only to return moments later. Just as Martin grew uneasy enough to consider making tea, the door creaked open. 

“We’re ba- Damn, Jon’s strong, huh?” Tim’s voice suddenly rang through the too small room. He strode in happily, bringing a sudden warmth with him. The flowers seemed to open more, shifting towards the heat. 

“Welcome back.” Martin mustered up a smile, though it was easily seen through. “Jon’s asleep again, so keep it quiet.” 

“Got it.” “Right”

Sasha hesitated at the door, only for a moment, before drifting over to them. “Is there something here?” 

Her whispered question brought mere amusement from the being, who still rested near Jon’s head. Martin nodded towards the unseeable being. Then, with a nonexistent gust of wind, it was gone. At least, its presence was. 

The three avatars breathed more easily, and settled down to wait for the forth to wake. The presence did not return. 

* * *

Jon woke to quiet conversation and a feeling of warm, secluded infinity filling his hospital room. He waited for a while before opening his eyes, soaking in the power of the others. 

“Morning, Jon.” Sasha was the first to greet him, a smile stretched across her sharp face. Tim and Martin were quick with their greetings, a short kiss and a hug respectively. 

“What happened?” his voice was rough and harsh, “Where am I?”

“We’re in the hospital, Jon, remember?” Martin soothed.

“The Buried… It took me.” Jon’s voice was steady, face clear of emotion.

“Yeah, do you want a glass of water?” Tim asked, leaning back in his chair. “I mean, I probably shouldn’t get it, unless you want it to be warm. I could make tea though, at least the water for it.”

“Tim, he might be in shock!” Martin admonished.

“But Martin! I’m a walking stove! Why have I not thought of this before?!”

“I’ll get him water, calm down.” Sasha sighed, casting Jon an apologetic look. “Only if you two behave. Scratch that, Martin, you're in charge.”

“No fair! I’m responsible.” Tim whined.

A quiet laugh interrupted the conversation. Three sets of eyes met Jon’s as he chuckled.

“Thank you all.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Using the fact that they all have supernatural abilities for metaphors and pretty scenery is my favorite thing in this, not gonna lie


	5. With Ambition

It was tired. So, so tired.

It could not give up, not now.

Not now that its gift had grown so powerful.

He was so close, it could twist his dreams.

Now was not the time for sleep, not again. This time it would be found. It would not stand for anything else!

He would find it. He had always been such a clever boy, after all. Not to mention he had the help of a Solitary, now.

The Voidhearted one would not let him fall.

The Flame would burn his opposition to ash.

Such strength he had gathered and pulled close to him.

It was proud, so proud of its gift.

Perhaps it should tell him…

No. 

He was not ready.

He needed to find it, truly find first. 

Then he would be ready to know.

Oh, it could hardly stand waiting!

But it had, for so very long.

And it would.

Even if he took till the stars burned out.

It was a patient thing.

So.

It waited.

And it watched.

And it Sang.


End file.
